Omnis quod necesse est in latere meo est
by cutie-pie-rockchic
Summary: All that I need is by my side Sam and Dean find themselves in an all too real situation, and with all their expertise and training they can’t stop the worse from happening. Seperated and Lost, can the boys get back to each other? Sam!Angst, Dean!Ansgt


Chapter 1

Thursday 19th February 2007

7:49am

Under, over, left, right, dodge a quick feint to the left again and run on in the other direction. That bastard is sorted. He stops to catch his breath. Now to fend off the others who want his little piece of heaven. A scuttle behind him and he's running at full pelt again, his slim body easily gliding him through the pieces of rock and bodies that lay everywhere. He knows this part inside out, has lived here all his life, and if they think that they can outsmart him? They've never been more wrong in their life.

A small leap over a decapitated arm, and suddenly he's on the home straight. No, wait another body, this time it's a small child, and he quickly scrabbles over her tiny frame and takes cover on her left side. Peeking out over the top of her mangled leg, he sees them all run by, and carry on straight into the ruins on the other side of the road. Chattering among themselves how they were gonna rip him up piece by piece. He smirked to himself, but his attention was quickly distracted elsewhere.

The street he was on right now was a crossroad, and a massive one at that. Yesterday the cars had been out in full force, congesting the main road as people went out to work and about their business like every other day of the week. The tall chunky buildings that lined every side of the four roads stood at least 40 feet high, and offices lined almost every floor. The early morning hustle and bustle had been in full force.

Hotdog stands, babies crying in their buggies, frustrated workmen and women holding cups of coffee and scrutinising papers while trying to avoid the people running in the opposite direction, who were anxiously glancing up at the massive clock that hung off the edge of the shopping mall and loomed over the broad sidewalk.

He shook his head dismissively as he became lost in his memories. That was yesterday. This was today. It's still the same game for the humans, just a more extreme version of it, with the stakes higher than loosing your job or getting the items at your house repossessed. The game was still called survival. But if you lost, you were more than likely to loose your life in the process.

He shook his head again and refocused on the figure sobbing at the side of the road. His legs were brought up to his chest, his arms hugging his knees, sobs shaking his body as he strained to rein all his emotions in. But only a few seconds later, his sobs turned into pitiful cries of anguish that made even him squirm under its intensity, at how much raw pain could be vocalised in this man calling one name.

Dean.

The man lifted his head up to the heavens and he caught a glimpse of the soulful, liquid brown eyes, the pink, tear-stained cheeks and the mop of brown floppy hair, and there was such vulnerability there that he found himself praying that this Dean person was okay, because by the looks of it, this man wouldn't survive without him. And then he also caught a glimpse of the body that lay behind the man, and his heart dropped to his stomach. It was too late.

The name Dean was repeated over and over again, until the cries died down into the sobs, and became weak whispers, the mantra the name created somehow comforting the boy. His voice turned hoarse, and he dropped his head back down to his knees, all his strength and energy drained. A large black man limped across the street from where he had been quietly observing the emotional display, and sat down next to the man, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

Sam looked up at the man who had become his friend over the past day. His voice was pathetic even to his own ears.

"How could it have gone so wrong?"

Wednesday 18th February 2007

8:23am

"C'mon Dean! Seriously?"

"Sammy stop being a wuss about this. It ain't like their penniless. They've got money to burn and you know it."

Sam turned in his seat to face his brother. "But they're still good people Dean, we could do the job in our sleep and you know it."

Dean took his eyes off the road for a second to spare Sam a glance of disapproval. He was not going to give in. Not this time. It was an opportunity too good to miss. A slight smirk tugging at his lips Dean played on the protective instincts of his brother. Regaining his composure he was gave a nonchalant shrug. "It's just…"

He left his words hanging, and started to hum Led Zepplin as he casually looked at the road and observed the scenery, explaining no further. The bait was there, time to see if Sam would take it.

There were a few moments of strained tension, with Sam knowing it was bait, his mind screaming at him not to take it, that it was a trap. He resolutely started drumming his fingers on the car door. He wasn't going to give in. Not this time. Dean could play him all he wanted. His body became restless at the tension in the car, and he started to fidget.

First his back was uncomfortable, then his legs started to ache, and then his shoulders started complain at the lack of circulation. All the while he kept his eyes well clear of his brother. It didn't last for long.

His eyes turned of their own accord to look at Dean next to him. His big brother sensed he was being watched and inclined his head ever so slightly, the ghost of a smirk marring his handsome features. Sam averted his eyes, but he knew he'd been caught. It was so annoying! How the hell did Dean do that? He knew exactly what buttons to press! It was a fight between Winchester pride and curiosity. But he'd be damned if Dean knew his curiosity would always win out when it came to something like this. He huffed as moodily as he could, finally giving in.

"It's just what Dean?" He said rather aggressively while staring out the window. But Dean just shuffled in his seat and moved to turn on the radio. Sam sighed angrily. His brother apparently wasn't satisfied enough. He turned sharply in his seat, and quickly slapped Dean's hand away from the knob.

Dean yelped in surprise and drew his hand back quickly, rubbing the tender red spot.

"What was that for?" He asked indignantly, a pout forming on his lips.

Sam held back his smile, and instead gave his brother the full attention he wanted. "You know what it was for Dean. Now, you were saying?"

Dean still pouted, but decided to resolve this issue later with some Nair maybe. Or maybe he could do the itching powder thing again. He chuckled to himself. God, was he a genius or what? So damn funny. The look on Sam's face-

"Dean!"

He snapped out of it and cleared his throat roughly. "Err yeah." His faced turned serious. "I was just saying that it's a paying gig Sammy, and to be honest we need them at the moment. The feds are still on our trail remember? and I'm still wanted for murder. We need to keep a low profile." He gave Sam a meaningful look. "You don't want your dear, handsome, awesome big brother going to jail now do you?"

Sam answered without fault. "Of course not dumbass"

"Alright then Sammy boy, we're agreed. We salt n' burn the bones of Casper the friendly ghost and get paid big bucks." His grin was spontaneous, his cocky smile showing Dean's pleasure at winning. Sammy took it, hook, line and sinker.

Sam just sighed and shook his head fondly, a smile on his face as the radio was turned up full blast and Metallica's Master of puppets came on. The 67' Chevy Impala roared down the highway 26, taking her passengers into a place neither one would ever forget.

8: 51am

Dean put the car into park and carefully climbed out of his baby, mindful of the traffic. The intensely strong winds made it difficult for him to open his eyes properly, but he managed to close the Impala door safely and get onto the street where he met Sam and the two of the walked unsteadily into the coffee house, the wind so strong, it was causing them to loose their balance. Immediately the smell of bacon, chips and coffee filled their senses and their stomachs growled in anticipation. Grabbing a spare booth at the window, they picked up the menus and quickly gave the waitress their orders.

They sat in an amiable silence as Dean blatantly stared at the busty brunette who was bent over picking up some plates she 'accidentally' dropped, admiring the view. Sam smiled a secret smile, and gazed out of the buildings window that formed the front of the coffee house. He saw a woman struggling with her baby's buggy while trying to restrain her twin sons from touching the stray dog that wagged its tail eagerly at them. He also saw a business woman sipping hurriedly from her cup of coffee, and then getting the beverage spilled down her white shirt, by a man engrossed in his paper work going in the opposite direction.

A selection of curses that even Dean would be proud of poured out of her mouth, while she tried to wipe down the brown stain with a napkin. She gave the man, who was already out of sight, a dirty look and then stomped moodily down the street.

The wind was still picking up speed, and leaves were being tossed in every direction, the people outside uselessly flailing their arms around in an attempt to fight them off. Umbrella became upturned, and cars rocked in the spaces they were parked in. A quick glance at the Impala and she was doing the same. Every desperately grabbed onto scarves and coats, briefcases and shopping bags alike.

A big muscled black man walked past, holding his small pet Chiwawa under his arm, laughing when the dog sometimes threatened to fly away.

Sam gave an amused smile, and then returned his attention back to himself, as the smell of his fry up made his stomach growl again. Both brothers thanked the waitress (the busty brunette was called Harriet) and greedily tucked into their meal. Chips, egg, bacon, beans, and three coffees later the Winchester brothers were stuffed, and sat lazily in their booth waiting for the check.

"What time do we have to be at the Parkers?"

"Ummm…" Sam looked at his watch. "In an hour or so, but I think we should leave early, traffic looks like it's gonna be a bitch in this weather."

Dean looked out of the window and grunted in agreement, warily eying anyone who dared to stumble under the powerful winds near his precious Impala.

Sam was amused for a little while before he got bored. He needed a challenge. A grin crept across his features as he looked at his brother.

"Oh Deeeean…"

Dean turned his head warily; suspicion evident in his eyes, and his body unconsciously became tenser. He knew that look. Sam was up to something.

He answered slowly. "What?"

His brother just grinned in return, and Dean knew he was definitely in the shit. "Sam what is-?"

Dean never got a chance to finish his sentence, because at that moment, a thunderous crash of lightening seemed to literally crash from the sky into the street nest to them, cars swerving and crashing as they tried to avoid the fatal bolt of electricity. Immediately there was a full blown panic as the lightening carried on striking, hitting electricity pylons and setting the trees on the sidewalk on fire. Screaming erupted from every direction, as people hurriedly fled from the scene. Masses people flowed down the street in wave upon wave, abandoning their cars and possessions.

Sam and Dean watched for a few shocked seconds, and then quickly sprung into action, fumbling away from the window as people collided with it. Everyone in the coffee house slowly walked backwards until everyone was either behind the counter or in front of it on the back wall.

The manager on duty came through and turned on the television. Luckily it still worked. And if they'd thought their situation was bad then, it was about to get a whole lot worse.

"EVERYONE! GET TO SAFETY NOW! THIS IS A TORNADO WARNING! I REPEAT! THIS IS A TORNADO WARNING"


End file.
